Sanity
by Apollo Pompano
Summary: He gets home late one night, eyes filled with tears. Tears and... something else. A drabble of sorts. Implied Russia/Lithuania.


He gets home late, lip quivering, eyes stinging with tears. He doesn't know what to do.

With a low _click_ his key turns in the lock and he enters darkness. As his violet eyes struggle to adapt to the lack of lighting, he throws off his shoes and tears his coat off his body. Still not bothering to turn on the lights, he closes the front door a little harder then he should, cursing as it slams.

He can taste his tears now, freely falling down his face. He silently shakes, sinking to the ceramic tiling beneath him with a thump. With his back against the cold metal door, he brings his knees up towards him, hugging them for comfort. He tries to hold back his sobs, trying to stay quiet, not wanting to break the silence in the dark house.

But he breaks, and he freely cries and sobs his heart out. There is a feeling growing inside him, one he knows and certainly does not like. For now, he pushes it away, letting sadness envelope him instead.

The lights come on.

Whipping his head up suddenly, he struggles to see past tears. He blinks, and rubs his eyes. As his vision clears, he can make out the other form making its way towards him.

Trying to smile, but failing, he can only stare as the other man kneels down in front of him, enveloping him in a tight yet timid hug.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. It's okay now." The younger man whispers, before letting go of the weeping mass in front of him. Green eyes look into purple, as he surveys the other. He sees something in his eyes then, and his body tightens instinctively in fear. It appears and reappears, struggling to take control of those eyes.

_Those distant eyes..._

With tears still in a free fall down flushed skin, the look finally takes control, and the older stops shaking. His hands are still twitching, and to calm them a bit he runs them through his cream-coloured hair. The feeling has overtaken him now, he can't push it away anymore. He gives one last fight, but it is weak, and the feeling beats it down easily.

_I want to... I __**need**__ to..._

He stares at the other man with that look, and the smaller brunette shifts uncomfortably. He knows what that look brings. His hands brush across his thighs, identifying the bruises lying beneath. But he can hope, can't he?

_It won't be so bad this time, will it?_

He forces a smile out at the older figure, trying his best to hide his fear.

The blonde, still crying, still gasping for breath but no longer shaking reaches a thin hand to the brunette's face. His fingertips graze the pale skin beneath them, cold and clammy.

Mistake.

The brunette shrinks back to the touch, fear resurfacing. As he pulls away violet eyes widen at him in shock, still overflowing with salty water. The hand shrinks back too, disbelieving.

_What am I...? I want to... I __**need**__ to..._

"I'm sorry."

Looking back at the older man, the brunette sees a pained expression fill his face. He means those words, the younger can tell, but he will not follow them.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." The blonde cries again, hating himself for feeling this way.

He wants to tell him why he needs this, why it can't be any other way, but the words do not find the way out of his mouth. He swallows them down, and they speak in his stomach instead.

_I love you. I love you so I know you can take this. I know you can survive. I'm sorry._

Plum-coloured eyes focus on the smaller man, and they began to move his body towards the other. They are full of that look. The look that wants to feel power, the look that smiles at screams of pain and treasures the feeling of soft, ivory skin as fingers wrap around it and cut off the ability to breathe.

The brunette feels ready to cry, but he holds it in. That look does not love him. That look only loves how the light shines off a body that's gasping for a breath.

He does not like that look at all.

There is one last flicker of sanity behind the look.

"I'm sorry."

It's gone.

* * *

I'd love to know what you thought of it.

This started out as an original story, but when I was done I read it over and it just felt so.. so hetalia, I guess. This is the 'fanfiction' edited version. It's also technically my second fanfiction ever, and my first hetalia fic.

As a note: I love writing vague characters and stories.

Expect that.


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